


Give Me the Green Light

by srmiller



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Plot What Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6658885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is just smut<br/>there's no plot, no summary, other than to say it's smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me the Green Light

Jemma tugged on the ropes binding her hands and swore to herself she would kill Fitz when all this was over.

Shifting restlessly, she dug her heels into the mattress and tried to recall exactly how she’d gotten herself in this position and remembered, with what little bit of her brain power she had left, Fitz had risked his life to save Skye and then the coms had gone quiet.

Ten frightening long minutes later they heard Skye report everyone was alive and safe and they were on their way back, but Jemma hadn’t believed Fitz was okay until the plane had returned to base and she could see for herself he was in one piece.

If she’d been a little enthusiastic greeting him, well, she could hardly be blamed for that.

But when she’d reached for the buttons of his shirt in his room he’d laughed quietly and batted her hand away, framing her face and focusing on kissing her like it was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but Jemma wanted more and reached for the buttons of her own shirt instead.

Again the little laugh, like he was amused by her, but since she was rather intent on having those hands on her body, she ignored it until he grabbed her hands, pushed her against the wall and held them over her head.

“In a hurry are we?”

“Yes,” she’d replied primly to his grin, tugging on her arms to see if she could escape his grip and was surprised to find she barely managed to move his fingers. She knew he was stronger than he looked, but it seemed he was quite a bit stronger than even she had realized.

“I thought it best to hurry things along seeing as you seem intent on putting yourself in harm’s way. If we don’t get on it with now you might find a black hole to dive into.”

He’d shifted his grip, holding both of her wrists with one hand, letting the other slip beneath the hem of her shirt. His fingertips had run along the dip of her spine and the feel of his callouses running over her vertebrae had made her arch into him.

And in doing so, she could feel the proof that despite his seeming nonchalance, he’d wanted her as badly as she’d wanted him.

“Come on, Fitz. Let go of my hands.”

“Will you behave?” he’d asked and she would swear she could feel the vibration of his accent run along every nerve of her body.

“Behave?” she’d repeated with a grin, hoping she could hide how easily he’d affected her. “Well, I can’t promise that.”

Fitz had stepped closer so his entire body was flush against her, pressing her against the wall so she couldn’t breathe without feeling every inch of him.

“Then I guess we’ll have to find a way to make sure you behave, won’t we?”

And it had been a short leap from there to a piece of rope Fitz conveniently had in his room. _(She’d tried to ask why exactly he had a piece of silk rope handy but instead of answering he’d pulled off his shirt and she’d been sufficiently distracted.)_ He’d kissed her then, while he’d slowly removed each piece of her clothing, one article at a time.

When she’d tried to help, reaching for the snaps of her jeans, he’d taken her arm and twisted it behind her back. It hadn’t hurt but it was a breathtaking reminder of how this Fitz was different than one she’d known for the past ten years.

“What did I say about behaving?”

His voice had been different, strong and unrelenting and it did things to her insides she hadn’t been aware anyone could do with a tone of voice.

“You’re bossy,” she’d accused because honestly, her brain had fried and she couldn’t think of anything else.

He paused and looked down at her, “Have you ever used safe words before?”

“Safe words?” she’d asked absently because most of her skin was pressed against his bare chest and all she wanted was her bra to be on the floor so there would nothing between her and the heat of his skin.

“Green means go, yellow means slow, red means stop. We don’t have to if you don’t want,” he’d assured her. “But if you trust me enough to try…”

She blinked once, following his gaze to the piece of rope lying on the bed and she suddenly understood exactly what Fitz had in mind.

Fitz in control, her hands tied, utterly defenseless. Vulnerable and at his mercy.

And why did the very idea of that make her go weak in the knees and hot between her legs?

“Green go, yellow slow, red stop,” she’d repeated, ignoring the fact that she sounded more than a little breathless. She didn’t fight to free the arm still pressed against the small of her back, instead she shifted a little on her feet-and wasn’t it lovely that they were practically the same height? no need to reach or bend over to kiss each other-and kissed him a with so much blatant sexuality it took her by surprise.

Had she ever been like this before? Or was it because it was Fitz she was kissing? Whatever, she’d think about it later.

Which brought her to now.

He’d brought her quickly to climax with his fingers after tying her hands to the headboard and then studied her while his fingers skimmed her oversensitive skin.

“I always thought you’d call me Leo when you came,” he’d remarked thoughtfully. “Maybe it was a one-off. We’ll have to test the theory a few times to know for sure. I am a scientist after all.”

She’d laughed then, but looking back now, she wasn’t so sure she would have because it was after that that the real torture began.

He’d always been good with his hands, and maybe in some of her weaker moments she’d imagined exactly what those nimble fingers were capable of, but she didn’t have to imagine anymore.

Two of those long, slender fingers were deep inside her, stroking as his mouth worked her clit driving her closer and closer to her orgasm until she was certain she would finally reach it and then, as he had been doing for the past hour, or maybe five minutes? Jemma wasn’t sure anymore, he would stop.

_“Fitz.”_

And if it sounded like a scold, so be it.

He looked up and grinned. “You know, I’ve heard you say my name like that before. I never thought I’d hear it in these particular circumstances.”

She opened her eyes, not quite sure when she’d shut them, looking down her naked body at Fitz, and for the love of science, how had she ever thought he was _cute?_ The word was too innocent and benign for the man between her legs, lips wets, eyes dark, as he tortured her with so much pleasure she thought she might die from it.

“Yes, Jemma?”

“I hate you.”

He crawled up her body, and she was thought it was wildly unfair that he was still mostly clothed while she was completely bared to him. She hadn’t thought to get him undressed before she agreed to be tied up, but she had to admit there was something erotic about the feel of his jean clad leg between hers. Maybe if she could find the right angle, the right amount of pressure, she could get to the orgasm Fitz had been withholding.

When he realized what she was doing he wrapped her hair around his hand and tugged just hard enough that she felt a twinge of pain at her scalp but it was the removal of his leg which made her whine, a sound she could barely believe came from her.

“Fitz, please.”

“Every time you ask, you put it off a little longer,” he warned.

She pulled at the rope, her nails digging into the threads of silk, not because she wanted to be freed but because she didn’t know what else to do with the desperation crawling under her skin.

“What color are we at?”

It took a moment for her sex-hazed brain to understanding he was checking in with her. She’d never done anything like this before and she imagined it would be easy to get caught up in the newness of it and forget to say red if she needed.

“Green, Fitz. For the love of all that’s good, green.”

His grin was quick and familiar and she felt a tug of affection mix with the lust.

“You know, I’ve pictured this before,” he told her conversationally, and she might have thought it was absurd that he sounded so casual while his fingers played along her naked skin, but nothing was abnormal anymore.

“You, naked beneath me, smelling of sex and looking like Aphrodite.”

The tips of his fingers brushed against her nipples and she was so desperate for contact that it made her gasp.

He closed his mouth over the hard bud, nipping at it gently before laving it with his tongue. One hand found its way between her legs but it might as well have been miles away, it was so far from where she wanted it. She shifted on the bed, trying to see if she could get his hand closer to her clit only to have Fitz stop everything in an instant.

“Stay still.”

She immediately wanted to obey, to do anything he asked if only he promised to give her release.

Biting her lip to keep from begging, she nodded.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, shall we try this again?”

She nodded again but he was already covering her other breast, his hand moving centimeters at a time and the thought occurred to her that all he’d have to do to make her come was slip a single finger inside her.

She nearly came just at the idea.

“I’m going to go down on you again,” he informed her. “But you’re not allowed to come until I give you permission.”

She hated him.

She never wanted to leave this bed.

“Tell me you understand,” he ordered.

“I understand.”

His stubble scraped along the inside of her thighs and she’d have to try and remember to thank him for the new look because the feeling was delicious against her skin.

He used his tongue first. Jemma had to bite her lip to keep from screaming, gripping the roped so tight her knuckles were white.

“Not yet,” he murmured, gripping her legs in place so she didn’t suffocate him, and when he nipped at the pale skin she bucked against his face.

She didn’t beg, but she wanted to, and of their own accord her hips lifted off the bed, chasing his lips and fingers.

His big hand pressed her back down to the mattress. “Calm down woman,” he chastised her, and there was a smile in his voice, the bastard. “I’m trying to do this properly.”

She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, but all she could do was feel.

“Do you want to know what else I’ve thought about,” he asked as he wet his fingers with her slickness. “Ten years is a long time, but it’s only the past year or so I’ve thought about what I’d do if I had the chance. To you, with you.”

His fingers slipped inside her again, stroked her inner walls and it was if he knew where her g-spot was because he avoided it so expertly. His thumb pressed against her clit and it took everything in her to hold back the orgasm threatening to rip her in two.

“A lot of it centered around you saying my name while you came, of you begging for me.” His fingers stilled inside her, his thumb a feather light pressure on her clit.

“Will you beg for me, Jemma?”

She understood he was giving her permission to ask, to talk. “Please, Fitz,” and there was no trace of shame at the desperation in her voice.

“I like it when you say please,” his fingers moved slightly inside her, brushed against her g-spot, making her jerk against his hand. “Please, what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please, let me come.”

“Such pretty words.” She’d have thought he was mocking her if his eyes weren’t completely black, they were so dilated, if his breathing wasn’t as ragged as hers. “Those aren’t the words you’re thinking Jemma, tell me what you really want.”

“Fuck me,” she begged before she could censure herself. “Fuck me and let me fucking come.”

Suddenly there were his lips, tongue, his fingers, driving her hard and fast up a hill she’d thought she’d already climbed and then she could hear, as much a vibration as it was actual words, “Come for me Jemma.”

When she screamed it was silent, her body going so taut she thought she’d break, but he stroked her as she made her way back down, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her jaw, a soft kiss to her mouth so the sharp fall turned into a floating descent.

When her body went limp on the bed, Fitz reached above her and with a single pull released her hands from the rope.

“Fitz,” his name was a murmur on her lips, and she was certain she could sleep for a day, but before she closed her eyes and drifted off she realized his erection was still pressing hard against her hip. It was probably painful by now, trapped by his jeans. “What about you?”

He smiled, his grin decidedly wicked, and something wild and possessive bloomed inside Jemma’s chest.

This was her Fitz. The world only knew the endearing scientist but this Fitz, wild and a little ruthless, demanding and purposeful, was hers alone.

“It’s adorable you think I’m done with you already.” He reached into his side table for a condom and left it on the wood laminate within reach. Moving on top of her, Jemma felt his heavy weight fully for the first time.

“What color are we at, Jemma?”

“Green,” she assured him, reaching up to wrap her arms around him, a smile on her lips as she pulled him down to kiss her. “We’re at green.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you like it, [share it on Tumblr ](http://awriterincowboyboots.tumblr.com/post/143397816984/give-me-the-green-light)


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